


Darling

by Cyranodebergerac



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: AU, Drinking, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Jealousy, Mind Games, Unwanted advances from drunk guy at bar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5319128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyranodebergerac/pseuds/Cyranodebergerac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The term “darling” was not something Isabella had ever seriously made use of until she met Tom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting all my old fanfic that I still love and wish I had completed here. Please be kind. This was originally posted on Tumblr at [Tom Hiddleston Frustration](http://thfrustration.tumblr.com/).

Isabella was eyeing the pair with distaste apparent on her face. He was doing it on purpose, she was sure. It had been two days since she had spoken with Tom. She could hardly remember what they had argued about, but she was adamantly refusing to apologize, just like him. At the moment, he was sitting at the bar with a leggy brunette whose hand was placed casually on his knee as she fawned over him. He said something that made her laugh and she boldly inched her hand toward his thigh.

_Filthy tramp_ , she thought bitterly. 

Tom glanced in Isabella’s direction and raised an eyebrow coolly in acknowledgement. She returned the gesture, careful to keep her anger in check.

_Alright, Thomas. Two can play at that game, darling._

Isabella took a long sip from her Midori sour and went in search of some new arm candy, slurring her words a little as she bade goodbye to the pair of girlfriends she had arrived with.

She stumbled into Jake at the far end of the bar, far away from Tom and his floozy. Jake was a friend of a friend whom Isabella had met at a few other parties in the past. He was attractive in his own right, nothing like Tom though. Sun-kissed skin, big brown eyes and naturally tousled dark brown hair, sturdily built, and closer to Isabella’s height than Tom’s though still relatively taller than her. Very California, appropriate since he hailed from Pasadena… But tonight, none of this mattered to her. All the mattered was showing Tom that she was just as good as playing the field as he was, if not better.

“Could I tempt you to dance, darling?,” she asked, after promptly taking his beer from in front of him and downing what was left. He eyed her with interest, intrigued and impressed by her boldness. He wrapped his arms around her middle in wordless agreement. She grinned and took small steps backwards, leading him to the dance floor, gently gyrating her body in coaxing invitation. He smirked and pulled her flush against his body. Isabella was momentarily caught off guard by his strength, but went along with it, moving her body against his, trying to match his aggressive rhythm. It had been a while since she had been this physically close to a man that wasn’t Tom. After all this time, it felt foreign.

She chanced a look in his direction and wished she hadn’t. The girl was standing between Tom’s legs now, both her hands resting high up on his thighs, one hand drawing small circles on the fabric of his pants. He looked so at ease, smiling at her and talking animatedly and it made Isabella’s stomach churn. She looked away, trying to mentally re-engage in the game, in trying to prove to him that she had no trouble finding herself another guy to keep her warm at night. Jake was far too caught up in her body to realize her momentary distraction. He kept his hands firmly planted on the small of her back and ducked his head to sink his teeth into the flesh of her neck. He didn’t bite hard, but she suddenly felt very sober and terribly aware of growing bulge in the front of his pants. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but her movement seemed to only encourage him further. He held her tighter and she began to push at his chest.

“Darling, I need some space,” she said, trying to cover up the anxiety in her voice.

“I love the way you say darling,” he murmured, loosening his grip fractionally.

“Yes… Well, I think I need to make a trip to the ladies’ room if you wouldn’t mind,” she scrambled for an excuse, hating herself for carelessly dropping the term. He rubbed his hands up and down her back in what she assumed he thought was an enticing manner and let her go.

“Hurry back, alright?”

She plastered a grin on her face and nodded, grateful to get away from him. She threaded her way through the crowd of people to the ladies’ room, already trying to come up with an apology for Tom.

The term “darling” was not something Isabella had ever seriously made use of until she met Tom. His penchant for the word became obvious within their first meeting and up until tonight, Tom had been the only person she had ever called darling. As she looked over her reflection in the restroom mirror, she became upset that she had so thoughtlessly allowed herself to call another man by the nickname. The term felt desecrated now. She sighed and bit her lip in disconcertion, a timid apology already more than half formed in her mind. After a few more steadying breaths, she ran a hand through her hair and straightened up, ready to go out and peel the harlot off of Tom and ask to end this stupid game and forget their silly argument.

As she made her way through the crowd, careful to avoid being seen by Jake, she ran through a few possible scenarios in her head. The details seemed to escape her as by the end of each one, she hoped that she would be able to convince him to come and spend the night with her. Suddenly, as if floodgates had been opened by the thought, her body craved his touch. She could distinctly remember the way his breath felt at the base of her neck as he teased the sensitive skin with delicate kisses, the way his hands felt at the curve of her waist, and just the way he felt in general… She missed him. She smiled to herself at the thought, searching him out in the mass of people around her.

When she found him, the brunette was still between his legs, but had her arms around him, hands clasped together behind his neck. The pair was still immersed in enthusiastic conversation and Isabella unexpectedly felt rooted to the spot. Her resolve to get rid of the girl was slowly dissipating as she watched them, her heart pounding in her chest as it attempted to voice its protest. Was it so easy for him to forget her? She was bumped and jostled by people dancing and taking drinks away from the bar, but did not move. The way Tom looked so effortlessly engaged in whatever the girl was talking about made her start to tremble. She watched as the woman leaned forward and her intentions were very clear. She whispered something in Tom’s ear and he offered her a half-smile in response before their lips met. She felt tears claw at the backs of her eyes and she stood, disbelieving, until a hand closed around her wrist. Her heart leapt into her throat as she turned and met Jake’s gaze. He looked considerably redder than he had when she left him on the dance floor and she deduced that he must have had another drink or two while she was away.

“Where’ve you been, baby? I’ve been waiting for you.”

He pulled her close and she screwed up her face in displeasure; he reeked of alcohol.

“Let me go, Jake,” she demanded.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that,” he returned, leaning his head down to kiss her neck. She stiffened in his arms, tensing immediately at the unwanted contact. Her heartache was momentarily forgotten and replaced by the sinking feeling of being violated. It made her anxious, almost fearful and she reacted when he tried kissing her again, this time on the lips, by grabbing a pitcher of beer from someone who was leaving the bar to return to his friends and emptying it of its contents on Jake’s head. The crowd immediately around them gave cries of amusement, and some of anger if they were close enough to get some on themselves. The music screeched to a halt in the small bar as the DJ became aware of the crowd’s attention being turned to the scene and people began muttering among themselves.

Isabella closed her eyes and steeled herself enough to look back in Tom’s direction, he was looking too, eyes locked on her and Jake who was soaking wet and looking murderous. He stood as if to go to her, gently ushering the shocked brunette to the side. Isabella took this as her cue to leave, heading straight for the door as she rubbed tears off of her reddened cheeks. The entire scene was mortifying and all she wanted to do was hole up in her apartment and burrow into her comforter and never come out. Once outside, she stepped to the curb to hail a taxi, luckily she didn’t have to wait long. She saw Tom’s figure emerge from the club just as she shut the door to the cab and told the cabbie her address.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from original posting at [Tom Hiddleston Frustation](http://thfrustration.tumblr.com) \--
> 
> So I’m super surprised that there are folks reading this! I’ve never written a celebrity sort of fan-fiction; sorta just daydreamed, so this is exciting! Thanks, guys.
> 
> Obviously, this isn’t based off of real world anything. I dunno anything about premiere dates or why Tom would be in America for two months and all that, just trying to get this story moving.
> 
> That said, here’s chapter two and thanks for reading :)

_“Darling, will you come?,” Tom asked, seated at Isabella’s breakfast bar in grey sweats and a plain white v-neck t-shirt. He was all sleepy-eyes, bare-feet and gorgeousness._

_“Hm? Come where?,” Isabella had replied, standing across from him with a small smile on her face. She was absentmindedly stirring her coffee and admiring him. She hadn’t even realized that he had been talking at her for the past however many minutes._

_“Back to London with me for the premiere,” he said, looking wary now. She cocked her head to the side in thought._

_“I don’t know, Tom,” she said truthfully, offering him a shrug for emphasis. They had only known each other for two months now and though they frequently went out together and stayed in together, she wasn’t sure what that meant… for him or for herself. She was not interested in being anyone’s girlfriend. Exclusive relationships were not her thing; they hadn’t been for a very long time. Sure, Tom was probably the most perfect specimen of the male species that she had come across to date, but that didn’t really change the fact that the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing just wasn’t Isabella’s scene. The two months and counting that she had spent just seeing Tom and Tom alone was the longest semi-relationship she had engaged in since she was a teenager. If she accompanied him to this premiere, things would change. People would know who she was and everything would just get… sticky._

_Tom frowned visibly and looked down into his near empty bowl of cereal. Isabella sighed, a little bubble of guilt settling in her stomach at having upset him as she set down her mug and reached across the countertop to take one of his hands into both of hers._

_“Tom… I like where we are. I like what we do. But I just… don’t think I’m up for it,” she said gently, hoping he would understand. He gave a sort of half-nod in agreement, but simultaneously pulled his hand away from hers, dropping it in his lap almost as if to ensure she would not reach for it again. She pulled back as well, slightly surprised at this display of entirely uncharacteristic behavior, unsure of what to say or do next._

_“I understand,” he said, sounding as though he was struggling to keep the disappointment out of his voice and looking decidedly… not understanding, more upset if she was entirely honest in her evaluation._

_“I know you’re probably not used to being turned down -“_

_He cut her off, meeting her gaze at an alarmingly fast rate, “That’s not the point, Isabella.”_

_Normally, he called her darling or Izzy… but he had actually full-named her. She hated that; it made her feel like a child being reprimanded._

_“Then what is the point, Thomas?,” she replied, suddenly angry, emphasizing his name exaggeratedly to convey her displeasure. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, dropping his gaze away from her again. He stood abruptly and took his bowl to the sink before brushing past her and heading to her bedroom._

_Isabella stood alone in the kitchen and closed her eyes in an attempt to collect herself, groaning in aggravation as she did so. She didn’t understand what the big deal was. From what she knew, he usually attended these kinds of things without a date anyway. She counted to ten slowly before following after him._

_By the time she entered the room, Tom was already more than half dressed in his clothes from last night. His shirt hadn’t fared well against Isabella’s desperately groping the moment they had tumbled into her bed the previous night and it was badly wrinkled. Still, he looked stunning. She bit down on her bottom lip, not knowing what to say. A heavy feeling was beginning to burrow itself into her chest. He just looked so determined to leave. He shrugged on his blazer and straightened himself up. The pair stood looking at each other for several long beats before he sighed, grabbed the clothes he had slept in and put them into his brown leather messenger bag. She raised her eyebrows minutely in shock; he usually left those clothes here for mornings like these, when he had spent the night and didn’t want to lounge around her apartment in his date clothes the following morning. Whatever words she could have potentially thought to say to him were stolen away by this action. What did this mean?_

_Isabella was no stranger to endings. The way she had dealings with men, she was used to them. In retrospect, she never called them break-ups because she didn’t think of them as such; firstly because there can’t be a break up without a relationship and secondly because break-up was such a weighted term in and of itself. Typically, the trysts she had sort of just fell apart. She’d stop calling and/or he’d stop texting and it just ended and that was that._

_This, however, felt different. She wasn’t sure if it really was different quite yet, but it didn’t feel comparable to any other ending she had experienced thus far. She had to admit that it was undeniably more… painful and the pain was frightening._

_“I’ll call you, darling,” he assured very quietly, sounding more resigned than promising. The way he said it sounded more like a farewell. He kissed her cheek lightly, lingering next to her ear as if he wanted to say something. He must have decided against it though because the next thing she heard was the sound of her front door clicking shut._

The morning after the horrific party events, Isabella was scrutinizing her disagreement with Tom. Now that she thought about it in depth, perhaps it wasn’t such a small ordeal. The memory of the argument indeed made Isabella’s chest constrict miserably. She felt a very sharp need to cry, but her eyes remained dry, apparently opposed to wasting tears on any boy.

But Tom wasn’t a boy and certainly wasn’t just any boy…

A loud buzz interrupted wherever her thoughts seemed to be going. Isabella continued to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, hoping that whoever it was would think she wasn’t home and go away. The following two buzzes that sounded in quick succession told her that she wouldn’t be so lucky. Perhaps it was a girlfriend coming to check on her after having seen what happened last night. She would have checked her phone for any text messages or calls, but she had turned it off in the cab on the way home. She wanted to avoid the pitying texts she would have undoubtedly received from everyone. The image of Tom kissing that brunette arose unwelcome in her mind. She vaguely wondered what they had done after she had left but then quickly shook the thought away, convincing herself that she didn’t really want to know. She pressed her forehead on the door to recollect herself, taking a deep breath and wishing her building had peepholes in the doors. She opened the door and there stood Tom.

Of course.

She should have anticipated this… or perhaps she subconsciously figured he would be too busy with his new brunette bimbo to come and check on his emotionally unavailable ex-whatever-she-was. 

“May I come in?,” he asked quietly. She nodded mutely, not trusting her voice, as she sidestepped so he could walk past her.

She closed the front door and followed a few steps behind him, her pulse racing. He set his bag down at his feet and gracefully took a seat at the end of her plush white couch; she did the same on the opposite end.

He seemed slightly amused by her obvious discomfort, “Now whatever happened to perpetually cool, calm and collected Isabella?”

She sat up straighter at his jibe, sinking her teeth into her lip and shaking her head at herself in silent admonishment. She cleared her throat and stood.

“Would you like some coffee?,” she reverted into well-practiced formality and politeness, trying her hardest to keep her emotions under control. Before he could answer, she walked into the conjoined kitchen. She busied herself grabbing mugs and preparing the coffee, using the time to try and calm herself down.

“How have you been, Izzy?”

She allowed herself one more deep inhale before turning to face Tom. He had twisted himself on the couch so that he could look over the back of it and into the kitchen, at her. 

“Peachy,” she said, failing at keeping the slight edge out of her voice.

“You look like hell,” he observed, looking contemplative.

“Charming of you to notice,” she said, leaning back against the counter.

“Must you be so short with me?,” he replied, amusement pulling the corners of his mouth up into a perfect small smile.

She rolled her eyes before saying, “Thank you, Tom, for noticing that I look like complete shit the morning after one of the most mortifying nights of my life. That is wonderfully observant of you.”

He offered her a short laugh before standing and striding over to the kitchen. He parked himself on the opposite side of the breakfast bar and caught her gaze.

“I never said that,” he said gently, “You always look beautiful, darling.”

She sighed then, her pulse racing again, after having just calmed it. 

“Stop that,” she muttered with less force that she had hoped. 

“Stop what?”

“Being so charming and disarming. You’re upset with me. I’m upset with you. We’re upset with each other.”

 

He sighed in exasperation, “Okay. Let’s talk about it then.”

“Do we have to?,” she whined.

He simply sat down on a bar stool in response, folding his hands together on the counter as if to say: “let’s get down to business.”

She decided that to stay irate and upset would be to stay in control. Low blows weren’t her style, but she couldn’t come up with anything wittier at the moment. All she wanted was to crawl into his lap and hold him, but that wouldn’t do.

“What’s your brown-haired hussy doing this morning?”

He sent her a disapproving glare and declared, “Uncalled for.”

“Really? I don’t think it was,” she quipped, raising an eyebrow in feigned innocence.

“What are you implying then?,” he returned evenly.

“I’m not implying anything,” she answered trying to match his calm tone.

“You’re upset that I was with another girl,” he stated simply, looking as if he was searching for something in her expression to verify this information. Her face must have soured without her noticing because he smirked a little in satisfaction.

“You’re not my boyfriend,” she returned and her matter-of-fact tone down knocked him down a few notches, wiping the smirk off of his face.

He was quiet for a moment before saying, “I’m aware.”

Silence stretched out between them and Isabella grew increasingly more uncomfortable. She couldn’t accurately recall the last time she had argued with a boyfriend-type person and she definitely could not think of time when said boyfriend-type person had been the one to come to her to try and resolve their issues. She was floundering, out of her element and hydroplaning.

“What do you want from me, Tom?,” the words were out of her mouth before she could decide if she really wanted to ask him them. 

He met her eyes quickly, holding her gaze with the intensity of his own. He looked at her beseechingly. She could feel the plea he was offering with his eyes as clearly as if he had said the words. Still, she couldn’t wrap her head around it despite the fact that her heart had begun thudding hopefully in her ribcage; clearly, it understood what Tom was asking of her. She bit her lip and he unconsciously mirrored the action, staying silent. All she was aware of now was how deeply she ached for this man in front of her and by the look in his eyes, she was sure he felt the same about her.


End file.
